


Date Night 1: See Bad Movies

by LikeMeReckless



Series: Can’t We Be Seventeen [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 21:19:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18533368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeMeReckless/pseuds/LikeMeReckless
Summary: This series will consist of 5 short fluff pieces based off the lyrics involved in Can’t We Be Seventeen.1. See Bad Movies2. Go Bowling3. Play Some Poker4. Go Camping5. Prom NightThanks so much to @JandJSalmon over on Tumblr for her fabulous editing- her suggestions have undoubtably made this more fun to read!Disclaimer- I don’t own these characters or this song, I just borrowed them for a weekend.





	Date Night 1: See Bad Movies

He had prepped all day for this. The Netflix playlist was ready to go, the living room cleared of clutter, and snacks were set out on the coffee table. His dad watched him with amusement shining in his eyes.

“Explain all this to me again?” FP asked.

Jughead sighed and looked at his father, who was dressed and heading back out to work.

“Things have been so awful lately for Betty. The other day she was basically begging just to be normal 17-year-olds for a night. So, I’m doing normal,” Jug explained casually.

FP smiled and shook his head at his son who was now meticulously arranging TV remotes. 

“You’ve got it bad, Jug,” he laughed, grabbing his keys. “But I don’t blame you. Betty is a great girl who has been through a lot. It makes me proud to see you being a good man for her.”

It was then the doorbell rang, interrupting their moment.

“I’ll be out late.” FP offered with a wink, opening the front door.

“Hi, Mr. Jones,” greeted Betty, entering her old, sometimes current, home.

“Hey, Betty,” he said warmly. “You kids have fun tonight. Make sure Jug behaves himself.” With that he left.

Betty dropped her bag and shed her jacket. Her ensemble included a trademark sweater, but this one was cropped above her belly with a short, high waisted skirt. It was going to be a very long night.

“So,” she shrugged. “What’s the emergency you texted me so urgently about.”

He had scooted off to the kitchen while she spoke.

“Well,” he said, emerging from the kitchen with two Sam Adams lagers in hand, “I can’t decide if we should watch She’s All That or The Notebook.”

She looked at him incredulously, eyeing up the drink in his outstretched hand.

“Jug?” she drawled out, playful teasing evident in her voice. “Are you feeling okay?”

He casually walked closer to her, pressing the cold beer into her palm and left a slight peck on her cheek. He brushed past her to the sofa where he plopped down to get comfortable.

“Never better,” he smiled and reached his hand out for her to join him. “I’m just- being normal. You know... Seventeen.”

Her face shone with recognition and he was pleased she had caught on to his plan. While he wasn’t doing this for thanks, he wanted her to know he was doing it for her because he wanted her to be happy.

Betty’s smile was genuine and her eyebrow arched in recognition. 

“See bad movies and sneak a beer?” she questioned.

“Precisely, my dear,” he added, holding out a hand for her to come and join him.

She took his hand and he tugged her down into the sofa, handing her the remote. 

“Well? Which will it be first?” he asked.

Her fingers hovered over the buttons for a few before selecting a title. Jughead inwardly groaned as The Notebook began to play on screen. Betty settled into his side and put her head on his shoulder. He slid down a bit more as well to get comfortable, figuring he’d be asleep soon anyway.

Boy was he wrong about sleeping. Who knew that one person could cry so much during a chick flick?

“Their love was so beautiful, Jug,” she cried into his shirt. “I mean, they couldn’t live without the other!”

He wasn’t sure if it was the effect of the alcohol or just the movie, but he had to do something to salvage the evening. Betty crying into his shirt was not exactly how he pictured their night ending. 

“Ugh,” she said. “I’m such a hot mess right now. I think I’m going to go wash my face.” 

He took her absence as his cue to begin the next part of the night. When she vanished up the stairs, he headed to the kitchen and removed the cocoa powder from the cabinet along with water, flour, some chocolate chips, and banana. He grabbed a large bowl and looking at the recipe he bookmarked on his phone, began measuring things out.

As she descended the staircase, she found him midway through peeling a banana.

“You’re holding fruit,” she said. “You don’t do fruit.”

He smiled back, throwing a light “Ha. Ha.” her way to acknowledge her teasing. 

“Actually,” he said. “This is phase two of our night.”

“Phase two?” she repeated. “So bad movies, sneak a beer, and...” Her voice trailed off as she took inventory of what was on the countertop. “Bake brownies?” she questioned.

“Bake brownies,” he repeated. “That is the only reason I have fruit in my hand... or in my kitchen.”

He popped the tray into the already preheated oven and moved back over to the extra batter still in the mixing bowl.

She swayed around the counter to wrap her arms around him from behind, eyeing his brownie mix with a curious look.

“Juggie, thank you,” she said. “This really is the sweetest thing- but don’t you need eggs for brownies? And why banana?”

At her questioning he turned his body from the concoction in front of him to look at her, hands grasping her hips and pulling her closer.

“Well, Betty, I know how responsible you are and I figured.” he said, dropping one arm from her waist to reach behind him, “That if I put raw eggs in the batter, you would yell at me not to eat it.”

As he spoke, his fingers dipped into the thick goop, coating them in a substantial amount of mix.

“You’re right, Juggie,” she replied. “I probably would have told you that.”

He pulled her closer before continuing. 

“And I know you like a nice, crisp brownie and I like things a little more...raw,” he added, a dangerous glint in his eye. 

He saw her swallow, the desire evident in her eyes, and slowly brought forth his fingers covered in batter. He gently ran a finger from her pulse point down to her collarbone, careful not to get any mix on her sweater.

“So while the crispy batch bakes for you,” he continued, “I think I’d like my snack now.”

He punctuated his sentence with one long lick from her collarbone up to where the batter ended at her pulse point, leaving her void of words, only a slight intake of breath alluding to her reaction.

“This sweater, Betty,” he murmured, moving his fingers to the hem, “-really is unfair. It’s been teasing me all night and I’ve decided I don’t like it. What should we do about that?”

Her responses were jumbled and incoherent as his tongue followed the same path up her neck, this time leaving a little nip behind.

“What was that?” he asked. “I couldn’t hear you.”

“Off. Take it off,” she whimpered again, this time more clearly.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Before she could even blink her sweater was jostled up over her head and another stream of brownie mix made its way onto her body, this time reaching a much lower destination.

He bent his head to follow the path of chocolate downward, her chest arching towards his lips. 

“Jug,” she whispered, causing him to pause momentarily. “I want dessert, too.”

She took his moment of pause as an opportunity to tug his shirt up and over his head and dipped her fingers into the batter behind them as well. With a coy smile, she dragged her fingers over his chest, leaving behind a dark stain of batter across his pectoral muscles. 

Unlike his impatient tasting, she savored her snack, small slow licks picking up batter, tiny bites snuck in along the way. One last well placed bite was enough for him. He grabbed her by the hips and lifted her up, legs gripping his waist and clumsily carried her up the stairs to his-her old, bedroom. That night she proved to be a much better dessert than he could ever bake.

The next morning the sun was streaming in through the curtains. He woke first to a voice calling him from the kitchen. 

“Jug! Breakfast! I made chocolate chip pancakes.” he heard his father yell.

Turning his head he found Betty stirring beside him, some brownie mix still on the side of her lip.

“Morning.” She smiled.

“Morning,” he said with a grin. 

“I’ll wait until a good moment and sneak out. I’m not climbing out the window, Jug.” 

He laughed at that, thinking of how many times he escaped Alice Cooper through that opening.

“Jug!” they heard FP call again.

“Go,” she said, giving him a quick kiss before sitting up to gather her things. “And, Juggie? Thank you for last night- that was the sweetest.”

“Pretty sure I can think of something sweeter,” was his retort, tossing on his shirt and heading downstairs.

When he hit the kitchen he saw the remnants of last night’s baking in the sink. He never had gotten around to cleaning.

“Pancakes, Dad?” Jug said. “What’s the occasion?”

“Well, there was flour and chocolate chips all over my counter this morning so I figured, why not?” he shrugged, Jughead’s cheeks flushing a bit.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I was- baking.” he apologized.

“Uh huh,” said FP, knowingly. “I see you burned your brownies, son. You need be a bit better with your planning... like I am.

Jughead mumbled something unintelligible, taking a seat at the table. FP set down a large platter of chocolate chip pancakes and a smaller platter of plain ones, a mischievous grin forming on his face.“Betty!” he yelled. “I made you some without chocolate chips.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr for updates: @likemereckless


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